


Bloodthirsty 33

by Cut Myself Shaving (Two_Guns_And_A_Knife)



Category: Stephanie Plum - Janet Evanovich
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-15
Updated: 2013-08-14
Packaged: 2017-11-25 14:24:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 25
Words: 18,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/639790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Two_Guns_And_A_Knife/pseuds/Cut%20Myself%20Shaving
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Babe HEA. Turn back before it's too late, Cupcakes. <br/>A happily married couple. A smart beautiful child. A lazy purring cat. A pack of muscular men. An unsettled old score. A sad mad hairy man. His blood revenge. And his lonely journey. <br/>Theme Song: Now We Are Free from the Gladiator.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. King Of Pain

**King Of Pain**

There's a dead body on the floor. Dead men don't talk. Nor do dead women. Someone once said: "What you see in  **CSI**  is entirely do-able. Although how well is questionable." And the ugly truth is not every crime can be solved. Sometimes a case just goes cold and then gets lost in the files. People get killed everyday everywhere. There are only so many cops. And sometimes, the cops turn bad. They know how to get rid of evidence. They know how to silence the witness. Their salary is just not enough. It's more fun working for the mob: live a double life; never stop telling lies. The excitement. the money. The thrill. And sometimes even the most righteous man makes foolish mistakes. Maybe it's because of the sudden anger. Maybe it's because of the hidden greed. Maybe it's because of the momentary poor judgement. Or maybe he's just too unhappy with his boring life and he hates being so pathetic and so lonely. He wants revenge. He needs revenge. He wants to make his voice heard. He doesn't want to be a nameless face in the crowd any more. He's tired of being good. He's tired of playing nice. From now on, he will no longer follow the goddamn rules. Being a decent man didn't do him any good. Instead it has cost him his happiness.

He's not afraid of darkness. He's not afraid of Karma. He doesn't believe in Heaven and Hell. He has chosen to become the beast he always wanted to be. He has chosen to dance to his own drum. He won't give a fuck about anyone else. He's just himself. A forty-something single man with dense curly chest hair and a receding hairline. Thank god he doesn't have a beer and pizza belly. He has fallen madly in love with the sweet Chinese pickled garlic he found on a trip to Chinatown. He hasn't ordered meatball sub for years. He no longer has a dog. And he refuses to find a replacement. What he lost can't be replaced. Life has left him nothing to win and nothing to lose. Sometimes he feels he's but a lifeless puppet. Somewhere along the road he has lost his heart and soul.

And he hates the deafening loneliness. He hates the way it smirks in his face. He hates the way it keeps taunting him. Like he's an idiot. Like he's a fool. Like he's a fucking clown. Like he deserves what he gets. Like he doesn't deserve a moment of his own under the bright spotlight. Like he's not meant to be happy. He doesn't know why he's so angry. Of course he has the right to be angry. He feels cheated. He has been played. Now he wants it all back. His life, his youth, his innocence, his chance to happiness and success, and the woman he wants. And yes, he wants that child, too. That beautiful caramel skin brown-eyed child.

Should he cherish them? Should he treasure them? Or should he play and toy with them? Will they laugh? Will they cry? Will they scream in terror and fear? Will he be happy then? Will he be satisfied? Will he feel contented? Will he finally, finally, know the taste of peace? Right now his mind is like a raging tempest. Lust. Desire. Longing. Wistfulness. Glee. Anticipation. Will his rival crumble to his knees and weep? Will he die of agony? Will his cold emotionless heart crack, shatter, and break into zillions and zillions of tiny bits and pieces?

He lets out a rough bark of laughter. So this is what revenge tastes like. He doesn't feel guilty at all. He has just killed someone. He has stared into those eyes till them turned lifeless and dull. He has enjoyed the soundless scream. He has become a monster. A killing machine. A butcher. A murderer. There was no witness to his crime. He knows he won't be caught. His Moment has come. He's going to stun the world. He will take back what's rightfully his. He will undo the wrong and make things right. And for the first time in many many years, he feels happy.

Now he just has to deal with the body. Piece of cake. A small cupcake. Simple. Easy. Tasty. Yum.


	2. Sweet Illusions

**Sweet Illusions**

She flushed his ring down the toilet.

It was a Harry Winston. Princess cut. Princess shape. Shining. Beautiful. Fancy. 3 Carat. Perfect. Cost him a fortune. And she flushed it down the toilet. _ **His**_  toilet.

He also bought her roses. Red, red long stem roses. Five dozens of them. He showered, shaved, changed, and doused himself in expensive cologne. Italian brand, of course. He looked himself in the mirror. He smiled. He felt confident. He was a good-looking man. He was more handsome than lots of singers and movie stars. He was lean, muscular, and attractive. He was a sophisticated man. He had been around. He has seen and heard and learned a lot. He was experienced in many aspects. And he still got that sexy intriguing bad boy essence. He had everything arranged. And later that night, things went as he'd planned and expected. She said yes. She was surprised and probably shocked. She was overwhelmed. They were officially engaged. They had a bright future waiting ahead. They would be happy. They would be satisfied. They would be contented. But the pricey diamond ring couldn't solve or change everything. Their fighting and arguing intensified and become more frequent. She yelled. She screamed. She shouted. She gave him all kinds of angry hand gestures. She packed her things, stormed out and left. She came back to him the following week. They had made up sex. They whispered sweet nonsense in each other's ear. They watched TV, ate pizza and meatball sub. They drank beer. And then their fighting and arguing started all over again the very next morning. She left and then came back to him again. Again. And again. Then that day they both yelled, screamed, and shouted. They gave each other all kinds of angry hand gestures. She packed her things, stormed out and left. He couldn't eat. He couldn't sleep. He couldn't concentrate on work. He paced around in his lovely cozy two-story house waiting for her to return.

But this time, she didn't come back. And she flushed his ring down the toilet.  _ **His**_  toilet.

He was mad. He had never been that mad. He was beyond mad. He literally saw red. He trashed his lovely cozy two-story house house. He terrified his dog. He made his mother cry. He punched a suspect in the eye. He wanted to kill. He wanted to destroy. He wanted to vent out his anger and pain. He wanted to turn back the clock. He wanted to know what the Hell had gone wrong. He wanted her back. He needed her back. He couldn't sleep with out her at night. Love had made him blind. Love had driven him mad. He wanted to know why. He wanted a second chance. He deserved a second chance. They burst into laughter and giggles in his face. They laughed so hard that they couldn't breathe. They laughed so hard that they started to cry. They didn't even bother to hide their smirks. "Harry Winston, huh?" "3 Carat? Geez." "She did what?" OMG! LOL! ROTFLAMO! He was the office joke. He wanted to strangle them all. He wanted to ask her why. He sat in his empty house chewing swallowing Chinese take-outs, changing TV channels. He let his anger brew. He heard his loneliness sing. He closed his eyes and felt tired and old.

He demanded his ring back. He refused to let her repay him in cash. He didn't care what people say. They could laugh all they wanted. He just wanted his ring back. He knew she didn't have the cash. He didn't want  _ **him**_  to loan her the cash. He knew  _ **he**_  had the cash. He knew she always, ALWAYS, turned to  _ **him**_  for help. He knew he was being childish. He knew he was being pathetic. Somewhere deep down within, he was still hoping...Hoping for what? He knew she slept in  ** _his_**  bed. He heard she smelled like  ** _his_** shower gel. He knew sooner or later she would be wearing  _ **his**_  ring. He'd once over heard her telling her friends that  _ **he**_  was MAGIC in bed. He knew  _ **he**_  would put a ring on her once she was carrying  _ **his**_  child. And this time it would be "Till Death do we apart". He wanted his ring back. He demanded his ring back. He wanted his ring. He didn't want cash. And then that day she came to him with a same blue velvet jewelry box.

His heart sank. His soul froze. With steady hands he opened that box. It was the ring. His ring. The beautiful elegant diamond ring he'd put on her finger the night he'd proposed. The shining diamond. The princess cut. The "Cupcake" engraved inside. Was that really the same ring? Or did  ** _he_**  just pull some strings and get her another one? He wanted to laugh. At the crazy fucking world. At his stupid lonely immature self. What had he been expecting? A tearful apology? A truthful confession of loyalty and love? A sincere pleading: "Joe, please take me back"? She turned around and walked away. She didn't look back. Her cool light "Goodbye, Joe" rang in his ears. His heart. His soul. His silence. His tears. Her moans and gasps when he penetrated her from behind. Her giggles and laughter and the blush on her cheeks when he nibbled at the base of her neck. The dreamy look in her eyes. Her crazy curls flying in the wind. The touch of her soft warm lips. The feeling of her pale white skin. Her numb fear when her cars blew up. Her raging anger when they fought. She was his. She was his. She was no longer his. Now she belongs to someone else.

But he is going to change that.


	3. Dark Sensation

**Dark Sensation**

Sweet. Soft. Slender. Curly hair. Bright eyes. Twenty-nine years old. Unsuspecting. Tasty. Naïve. Trusting. Innocent. Naked. Stiff. Dead. And cold.

Caroline Autumn Mcdonald. Elementary school teacher. He had done his homework. He approached her for a reason. She smiled and blushed when he called her "Cupcake". She loved cupcakes, she said. Her father made the best cupcakes ever. And she also loved chocolate. Yes, her Facebook status was now single. Her ex-boyfriend had cheated on her with their mutual friend. Handsome face with a wandering dick. Stupid jerk. Shameless lying rat bastard. She'd kicked him out of her apartment. He'd yelled that it was all her fault. So much for high school sweethearts. Prom Queen and King my ass. Real life was no fairy tale. Happily Ever After was but a joke. She cried a little. "Hey, it's okay, Cupcake. It's his loss."He wrapped her in his arms gently and whispered in her ear. It was Lady's Night. No one in the bar gave them a second glance. He bought her another drink. He offered to drive her home. She was easy. And oh so simple.

He smiles as he watches her body sink into the still murky water. Around him silence falls. He's still a good-looking man. He can be charming when he wants to be. And he had been extremely careful. No one knows they were together. No one knows what he did. No one knows what he has planned. No one knows what he's really after. "Goodbye, sweet Caroline. It has been fun." He softly says. He now knows what he wanted to know. He now has what he needed to have. Sometimes he's happy he no longer has a soul. But everything comes with a price. He will always remember her brownish blue eyes. He will never forget her milk chocolate curls. Now he has access to that fancy private school. He doesn't have to worry about those security guards. He has everything set up. It will be easy and smooth. It will be expertly done. He has always been a smart clever man. And the longer you deal with crazy devious criminals, the more you learn from their careless mistakes. His plan is impeccable, he's sure of that.

He turns around and walks away. He leaves no evidence and no trace. No body. No case. No crime. He has known all along he's way better than Harry Bosch and Lucas Davenport. Tomorrow the world is going to change. Everything and everyone will return to their rightful places. He gets in his car and drives away. The Pine Barrens remains still and quiet. The winter air smells crisp and cold. The dead woman's eyes are empty and wide. Her mouth is gaping with a frozen scream. Her face is sad and contorted. Her broken neck and bruised naked body look small and fragile. You can't tell if she was sweet loving person. You can't tell if she was a devoted caring teacher. You can't tell if she was still in love with the wrong person. You can't tell if she had great dreams and brave ambitions. You can't tell if she would make this world a much better place if given the chance. You can't tell if she would miss that beautiful caramel skin brown-eyed child, the best student in her class.

She's just a nameless dead body now. All her dreams, hopes, wishes, longings, sorrow, pain, and regrets have ceased to count. She has lost both her voice and her life. Her murderer turns up the heat in the car and speeds away. Tonight he will shower and shave before he goes to bed. There will be a huge smile on his lean dark face. He will even wash his thinning hair. Tomorrow will be a busy day. He has it all planned and he shall not fail.

He can't wait to see the look on his Cupcake's face.


	4. Husky Whispers

**Husky Whispers**

Was he born a monster? Was he born cruel and heartless? Was he born without the ability to love? He doesn't know. He doesn't care. He's never interested in the answers. He tosses and turns in bed. He drifts between memories and dreams. He was a good-looking boy. He knew how to tell funny dirty jokes. He never backed down. He never looked away. He's always the last to blink. He was bold and charming and audacious. He was handsome and dark and tall. Some said he had George Clooney's eyes. Some said he had Brad Pitt's smile. Some said he had Gerard Butler's frown. But he lost. Still he lost. The endless cat-and-mouse game. The on-and-off tangled messed-up complicated relationship. Her bright blue eyes. Her cute sexy smile. Her wild crazy curls. Her long slender legs. Her friendship. Her affection. Her love. In a blink of an eye, he lost it all.

He's never sure if he really wants to be a father. He just loved to see her cringe and wince when he told her he wanted her to be the mother of his children. He knew he didn't mean it. He just loved the uncertainty and fear in her eyes. He had witnessed first hand what kids could do to a marriage. A steady but small income. An ever-increasing household expense. Non-stop crying. Non-stop fighting. Food. Clothes. Pets. Toys. Bills. Pressure. Frustration. His father's tired angry face. His mother's thin tear stricken face. That hot summer day. His father's garage. Another humid summer day. The cool hard bakery floor. His innocent curiosity. His playful seduction. The satisfying fact that he was and will always be her first. For the first time in his boring life, he had something to brag about. A harmless joke. A parting gift. A lifelong souvenir. He opens his eyes and stares into the silent empty darkness. She ran him over with her uncle's car. And that shameless thief stole her away.

He gets out of bed. He walks naked into the shower. In 17 seconds he takes care of his rock-hard erection. As usual he cries out her name through clenched teeth. Once again he calls her Cupcake. He almost laughs. He can't tell if he's more angry or sad. It should have been his kid. The little brat. The dark brown eyes. The unwhite skin. The straight silky hair. Everyone loves the kid. Everyone says he looks just like his father. Even his mother adores the kid. His own mother. Bought the brat a box of doughnuts and came home to him empty-handed.  _Oh, Joesph, he's such a sweet beautiful child._ Can you believe it?

He dries himself and gets dressed. He's got everything prepared. He gets in his car and drives to the deserted parking lot. Caroline's second hand red Audi is in perfect shape. It's Story Book Day for her class. Miss Mcdonald is, no, was known as an early bird. She was always the first to arrive. She would used her card key to open the staff gate. She would park at her usual spot and go about her business. He'll try not to attract unwanted attention and cause unnecessary troubles. He doesn't want to complicate things. He'll wait for the perfect moment. He'll bide his time. He'll act as soon as he gets the chance. He will make it quick and simple. He won't make any mistakes. It will be such a beautiful day. He softly laughs and starts the red A4. Life in the fast line. No regrets.

"Soon, Cupcake," He murmurs under his breath. "Soon."


	5. Azure

**Azure**

He laughs as he thinks of how stupid some women can be. They trust his smile. They trust his badge. They believe he's a changed man and forgive his past. Once he whispers "Cupcake" in their ears they all melt. Easy. They are so easy that they make him sick. They all fall for his pretty face. They all fall for his smooth bad-boy charm. Simple, time-saving, and cheap. That's what they are. Just how much can a cupcake cost? They think they know him. They think they understand him. They cheer for him. They clap for him. They smile and blush whenever he's near. 50 cents a bucket. 0.375 Euro. That's how much they are worth.

He uses Caroline's card key and gets in the gate. He parks the A4 in a corner spot and breaths in the air. He swipes the card key again and eases open the heavy door. He walks down the empty corridor and soon finds the bright spacious classroom. He lets himself into the small preparation room in the back and starts to wait. So much for safe environment and school safety. So much for alert and experienced security guards. So much for the healthy tasty balanced lunch. So much for the overpriced tuition fee. A bunch of delusional fools. That's what they really are. No one is safe. Everyone has to die in the end. Nobody can escape Fate. Karma is a sorry lie. He chuckles to himself. He has cleaned his gun the previous night. He has plenty of bullets and he also gets a knife. A long sharp hunting knife. He has seen the kid from afar many, many times. A beautiful happy family. A shameless betrayal.

It didn't take her long to get into  ** _his_  **bed. It didn't take ****_him_  ****long to get her pregnant. It didn't take  ** _him_**  long to put a ring on her hand. Oh yes, he heard about that loud flashy ugly humongous ring. The ring that changed everything. The ring that made people gape and " **WOW!** ". The ring that made her mother grin like an idiot and forgive them both. The ring that once again made him look like a most pathetic fool. "There are diamond rings, and there are diamond rings. Some are just different from the others." One of his fellow detectives actually choked on the joke. He couldn't eat. He couldn't sleep. He started losing hair. He looked himself in the mirror. His anger grew. The ring that's so bright that it stings your eyes. The wedding. The reception. The beautiful weather. The laughter. The joy. Her new car. Their new home. He looked out through his bedroom window and saw the bright blue sky. He cried. He swore. He cursed. He listened to the sound of his heart and soul shattering. And now it's time to revenge. He will get even. He will have the last laugh. He will lick her fear. He will taste her tears. He will clap and cheer when the kid starts to cry. He will show the kid his cold-blooded crazy father is no Batman. He despises them all. He will make them pay. He smiles as he sits in the dark corner and waits. It's Story Book Day for Miss Mcdonald's class. As usual, a student's parent will be invited to participate. And today is his Cupcake's lucky day.

The child slowly wakes up and stirs. The lazy black-and-white cat opens his eyes and purrs. The tall dark handsome man rubs the cat's belly, kisses his son on the forehead, and finally coaxes the little boy out of bed. He's in a very good mood. His wife's second pregnancy was unexpected and she gets tired easily these days, but her doctor has confirmed she and the babies are all healthy: there's nothing to worry about. At this point in his life, he's a family man. His daughter is in an ivy league school(with scholarship). Grandma Rosa and his parents are healthy. His siblings and their families are doing well. His wife's family is alive and kicking and crazy. His company is making money. His life is still like a roller coaster; it has ups and downs and twists and turns, but he has learned to cope a long time ago. It all started the day she came to him and flushed her engagement ring down his toilet.

"Babe, it's a Harry Winston." 3 Carat. Definitely cost the cop a fortune. He almost laughed as he thought of the "Cupcake" engraved inside. "Cupcake"? Really? Geez.

She blinked at him as if confused, and started looking a little worried. USD $1,0027.50. That was all she had(if she could manage to sell her car for USD $ 500, that is). Her lips quivered. A drop of tear slowly fell down her cheek. He let out a silent sigh and wrapped her in his arms. She was so soft and so warm. And that was when he decided he wouldn't let go.

He makes sure his son is fully awake and leads the child to the bathroom. He then goes back to the master bedroom to check on his wife. She's still soundly asleep. The cat jumps onto the bed and curls beside her. He gently kisses her on the lips and goes to change for work. It's Story Book Day. She has been invited to participate. He has a busy day ahead of him. He still doesn't know why he always has to be her hero.

Maybe it's because of love?


	6. Indigo

**Indigo**

Is it possible to feel warm and cold at the same time? Is it possible to want to laugh and cry and shout out loud all at once? Why does he suddenly feel the need to sing and dance? Like a child. Like a 6-year-old. Like a first grader. Will anyone believe him if he says he didn't have much of a childhood? Will anyone come over to give him a kiss and a hug if he tells them how lonely he is? Will they understand his struggle? Will they realize his value? Will they hand him what he deserves? He suddenly wants to eat a cupcake and wash it down with a cup of coffee. Hot steaming coffee. Cold iced coffee. Cupcakes are muffins with fancy hats. Vanilla buttercream. Lemon curd buttercream. Milk chocolate buttercream. Marshmallow coffee buttercream. He swallows and licks his lips. He's hungry. He's tired of waiting. But he has no choice. This is his chosen path. This is the ending he wants. "Patience, Joseph, patience." His husky whisper creeps through the air. Soon it will be over. Soon he will be happy. No one can be happy if he's not happy. It isn't fair. Let us suffer together, says no one ever. Life is but a game of telling lies and making believe. It's each for his own if there's something to gain. He smiles. Yes, yes, of course he can wait. He has it all planned. He's a smart man. He has changed. Changed. CHANGED. All these past years. All the ridicules. All the memories. All the snickers. All the hurt. He sometimes wishes he can let go. But it ain't that simple. It's never that simple. It's too fucking complicated. His forsaken dreams. His injured ego. His lost chance to obtain happiness. His diamond ring. His Harry Winston. 3 Carat. Cost him a fortune. Cost him his future. His life is but a joke. He closes his eyes and thinks of the things he plans to do to her. And to that little boy. Sad. Mad. Evil. All alone by himself. So lonely. So cold. His devious plan. So brave. So smart. So clever. "Cupcake..." He whispers under his breath and licks his lips. "Cupcake..."

Andrew "Drew" Mackintosh smiles as he spots the red Audi A4. Miss Mcdonald, as usual, is early to work. It's Story Book Day for her class, and a student's parent is invited, he recalls. He retired from NYPD after 21 years of long working hours and stressful work, but it was too late. His wife was determined to be gone from his life. "I deserve better." Sheila told him the day she said she wanted a divorce. She took off her ring and left. He moved to Jersey, found his new job, and tries his best to ignore the pain he sometimes feels. He doesn't have any pet or kid. Hearing the children saying hi to him and keeping them safe every day is now his only goal. He and his fellow security guards will patrol the school premises and check for signs of intruders before school begins. Staffs and teachers will soon arrive. Students will get off the school buses. Parents will drop off their kids and wave goodbye. Today will be another cheerful busy day. And the sky is so blue that it reminds him of Sheila's eyes. Drew takes out his card key and opens the door. The corridor is empty and the air inside the ancient building feels cold. He likes the silence of early morning. Children are the hope of the future. Miss Mcdonald's first graders are his favorite. He can't wait to see the smiles of all those beautiful happy little faces. Story Book Day? Sounds a lot of fun.

He frowns. Miss Mcdonald is still not answering her phone. He has been trying to reach his son's teacher to explain the sudden change of plan. He has left several messages on her answering machine and in her voicemail. She hasn't called back yet and it's too early to call the school. He puts down the phone and smiles as his son eat up all the broccoli in his plate with a special kind of zest. Most children at this age love ketchup, hot dogs, anything deep-fried and everything sweet, but this little boy loves doughnuts(Boston Creme, what else?), pumpkins, mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes, dark chocolate, brown rice, and everything green. And he also knows how to roll his eyes and says, "Duh!". The cat comes downstairs and sits in front of his empty bowl. He gets up to feed the cat and thinks about it more. Miss Mcdonald is a very good teacher, according to his wife. She's young and enthusiastic and cares about her students. She also has a good relationship with the parents. It's unlike her to ignore a parent's calls.

Something's feeling off.


	7. Blue

**Blue**

He holds the little blue velvet jewelry box in his hand. He feels its weight and its warmth. His stomach growls. Why didn't he just sell the ring and find someone else? Why did he choose to feel stressed and bored and suffer instead? 718 5th Ave, New York City. The little price tag. A tiny piece of rock. The salesman's polite crocodile-like smile. A day to remember **.**  A moment to never forget. His hand shook a little when he handed over his credit card.

He thinks of the color of her eyes and the laughter they shared. He thinks of the brightness of her smile and her sudden betrayal. Diamonds are a girl's best friend. A promise. A vow. A dream. A lifetime's happiness. A shameless lie. He thought he would be happy but he was wrong. She handed back the ring and immediately left. He didn't have time to tell her she was but a play thing, a sex toy, for a man like that. He didn't have time to tell her she was gonna regret and she would be dumped. What man in his right mind would want a woman like that?

He'd thought she would grow out of herself and morph. She's a Plum, after all. Her aunts, her grandmother, her mother, her cousins and her elder sister are all fantastic cooks, bakers, housekeepers and mothers. She would soon be tired of being different, he'd thought. She would finally feel ashamed of being incompetent and she would want to change. She would want to be better. She would want to be braver. She would want to be smarter and more capable. She would rather die than being a failure, a loser, a disaster magnet, a joke.

And she did change.

She's no longer a bounty hunter. She's a wife, a cat owner, and a mother. And here he is, sitting in a small room planning his final revenge. Every day is a repetition. Every night is a recurrence. Every words he says. Every thought in his head. Every dream he floats through. They are the all same, always the same. His stomach growls again. He looks down at his hands. He can still feel the warmth of Caroline Autumn Mcdonald's slender neck. Maybe he really is quite mad. He tilts back his head and laughs. Maybe he is mentally and emotionally sick. Like a lonely desperate caged circus beast, he feels trapped. So trapped.

Drew Mackintosh frowns and turns his head. Did he just hear something? Or was it just an illusion? The doors to the classrooms are all locked, he has checked. He's always a very careful man. Maybe it's just the wind. He turns back and keeps walking. He hasn't seen Miss Mcdonald today, he suddenly realizes. She always sits at her desk listening to an audiobook with the classroom door and the windows open. She once told him she wants to find a man like Elvis Cole, a fictional PI who wears Hawaiian shirt, lives in LA, and has a strange sense of humour. He didn't have the heart to tell her that according to his experiences, real-life private investigators are usually grumpy ex-cops and selfish jerks. She's young enough to be his daughter. He doesn't want her to get hurt. He will go back and check again, Mackintosh decides. It's better to be safe than sorry. He has learned a lot from the mean nasty New York streets.

The sleek black SUV stops in front of the small townhouse. A tall muscular man gets out and rings the doorbell. No one answers and the red Audi isn't in sight. He takes out his phone and dials. At another part of the city, another sleek black SUV takes a right turn at a crossroad and speeds down the street. The lean Hispanic driver is a local and knows the area well. He's still too young(in his opinion) to settle down and be a dad, but his girlfriend has told him more than once that she'd love to get their kid enrolled in that private school. Well, he has no objection for that. He, too, has heard the school has great teachers and programs for all types of kids. The tuition fee is high(of course!) but the principal is not a snob. And he's been saving money since he got this job. He's now in security business. He now has a goal in life, a woman he loves, and the courage to dream. "Better to be safe than sorry" is his new motto, and he's determined to give his family the best of everything. Everything.


	8. Cyan

**Cyan**

He calls himself Fisherman and won't respond to other names. He's big, quiet, and a bit slow in the head, and everyone—the cops, his teachers, his neighbors, his brothers and aging parents—agrees that he's harmless. "He's just shy." His Granny used to say when she was still alive. "His heart's in the rightest place." What she said is true, they all believe. He's kind to all animals. He prefers mashed potatoes to meatloaf. He helps his mother with house chores. He helps his sisters-in-law get their drunken husbands under control. He never curses or swears. He never raises his hand to anyone. He works at the gas station owned by his father and uncle. He doesn't make much but regularly donates to animal shelters. And up to now, he has helped 11 kittens and 6 puppies find home. Well yes, they are all adopted by his cousins and nieces and nephews, but still.

And sometimes, he sees and hears things in his dream.

His family lives not very far from the Pine Barrens. His Grandpa used to tell them all kinds of scary tales about the Jersey Devil. Most of the locals keep their distance from the Pinelands, but Fisherman likes to go there exploring and searching for the Jersey Devil while singing his several favorite songs. He always goes there alone in early morning, and today he's singing **Beautiful Dreamer**  softly under his breath in his surprisingly beautiful voice. He has never seen the Jersey Devil, but he kept hearing this young woman's crying in his dream last night. And he loves the color of her eyes: they are the same color as the summer sky, and he loves summer. He keeps singing as he gets off the truck and walks toward the small but deep river. He may or may not know that his cousin Teddy is not very happy about this trip. He just knows that he has to bring Teddy along with him. He has to show Teddy where this young woman is. She asked him to help her. She said she's terrified and scared and in pain. She told him she's cold and miserable under the water. He knew he has to help her. So he went to Teddy's place a little before dawn and literally dragged him out of bed. Because Theodore "Teddy" Thompson is not only a New Jersey State Trooper but also his best friend.

"Fisherman, what the Hell are you doing?" Teddy frowns and demands as his cousin steps into the still river and dives under the murky water. He becomes fully awake. Everyone in the family knows Freddie was born with some brain damage, but they also know he has some...special abilities. They have seen enough proofs over the years. And this place is giving him the creeps: the lurking silence; the watchful emptiness; and the cold stillness of the air...Teddy widens his eyes as Freddie comes up to the surface of the river pulling something stiff and heavy. He opens his mouth in shock as he realizes it's a lifeless body of a woman. Her eyes are empty and blue. Her face is frozen in pain and sadness. Teddy fishes his cell phone out of his pocket and finds he's got no signal. "Oh shit. Shit. Shit."

"Miss Mcdonald?" Drew Mackintosh knocks on the locked classroom door again. "Caroline?" Still no answer. He knocks again and presses his ear against the door and strains to hear. None of his fellow security guards has seen Miss Mcdonald today. She's not answering her phone. Her car is here in the parking lot, but she's nowhere to be find. Drew shakes his head as his colleague raises her brow at him, and takes out his key card.

They both know something is wrong.


	9. Cerulean

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: The Lunar New Year is coming this weekend. I'll be away from Feb 9th to 12th. Have fun. Stay safe.

 

 

 

**Cerulean**

Revenge is a lonely road. There's no turning back once you go down that cold dark path. Do not dwell in the past. Do not dream of the future. Concentrate your mind on the present moment. Forgive. Forget. Move on. Let go. Find small happiness in everyday life. Tomorrow is another day. There's always hope. Yea yea yea. Blah blah blah. He hates inspiring quotes. He tried to follow his dream once and look where it has taken him. He has become a joke. He has been ridiculed. Some days he wakes up and immediately starts doubting the meaning of life. Does life have a meaning? Does life have a purpose? Does everyone else have a goal? He spent his savings buying that ring. He had everything arranged. He had booked the church and the reception hall. She was like a tempest, a hurricane, a tornado. She was fierce and magnificent. She was intriguingly beautiful. She was like a summer's day. She was like a winter's dawn. She was the sun. She was the moon. She was the wind. She was the snow. He loves the color of her eyes. He adores the brightness of her smile. She betrayed his love and stabbed him in the heart. Now he can no longer bare his soul to anyone else. No one else can fill the gaping hole deep down inside. He can't even find comfort in alcohol—

"Miss Mcdonald?" Someone calls out and knocks on the classroom door. "Caroline?"

The door opens a couple minutes later. He can barely hear the cautious footsteps. He presses himself against the wall by the door of the small preparation room and strains to hear the movement in the classroom. His hand tightens its grip on the gun. His eyes fall on a child's painting on the desk. He's strangely attracted to the bright cheerful well-balanced colors of the big smiling cat. He's always a dog person but somehow he likes this green-eyed colorful cat. His smile freezes and his eyes turn cold as he finds that the painting is signed "Roy Manoso" in blue crayon. Roy Manoso. Stephanie's stupid fat black whore of a friend calls him "Bat Baby" because his father is Batman. He sneers at the bright blue "Manoso". Batman doesn't have a happy ending in the end. Batman is a pathetic liar. Batman is a lawless mentally disturbed loose cannon. Batman isn't real. The footsteps come closer and stop in front of the preparation room door. His whole body tenses. He holds his breath and gets ready to react.

"Miss Mcdonald?" Drew Mackintos keep his voice even and steady and knocks cautiously on the locked door. "Miss Mcdonald?" His heart sinks when no answer comes. He can't hear anything but his instincts tell him there's someone on the other side of the door, and that someone probably isn't Caroline Mcdonald: He didn't see any of Miss Mcdonald's personal belongs in the classroom; no coat on the back of her chair, no half-full coffee mug on her desk, no bag hanging from her chair, no nothing. He exchanges a worried look with Bridget Cooper, his colleague and retired Marine. What should they do now? This is the first time they come across situation like this. Should they unlock the door and confront the intruder? Should they get out quietly, call 911, and wait for the cops to arrive? Should they call the security chief and let the principle decide? He knows they have rules and procedures to follow. But things can change in a blink of an eye, and they can't be sure if the person inside the preparation room is armed or dangerous. Besides, there's no signs of breaking in and Miss Mcdonald's red Audi is the only car inside the staff parking lot. Whoever's in there must have her keys. Is the person a he or a she? A teacher? A staff? Or someone close to Miss Mcdonald? What happened to Miss Mcdonald?

Both Drew and Bridget take out their tasers. Drew suddenly hopes he has a gun in his hand. _But this is a school, and there's no place for guns in schools._ A firm little voice in the back of his mind scolds him in his ex-wife's voice.  _What if an accident or_ _mistake_ _occurs and as a result a kid get hurt? Tasers can kill, too, but they are safer than guns._ He closes his eyes for a second to collect himself and nods at Bridget before he knocks again with his taser in the other hand. "Miss Mcdonald? Are you alright? We are coming in." They need to make a quick evaluation of the situation before reporting to the authority or going to the police. Hopefully this is just a prank or a misunderstanding, and Miss Mcdonald just went out for a jog or a doughnut.

Ramon Santiago stops the sleek black SUV at the gate of the school and hits the horn to get the security guard's attention. His mission is simple. He just has to locate Miss Caroline Mcdonald and ask her in person to call his boss. He gets off the car as the middle-aged female security guard comes to the gate, and opens his mouth to speak when the her walkie-talkie crackles into life. The security guard pulls out her cell phone and calls 911. Ramon presses the speed dial on his phone and reaches for his gun.

They both heard the gunshots and the shouting for help.


	10. Lazuline

**Lazuline**

The ancient school building is like a labyrinth. Endless hallways. Long corridors. Wide smooth staircases. Corners after corners. And echoes. He hates echoes. They make him feel like he's chasing something scary and unknown while being chased; like he's both the hunter and the hunted. His timing was impeccable. He chose the perfect moment to pull the trigger. The sturdy man fell down without a sound. The muscular woman ducked and took cover while calling for help. And he started running. He run like Hell. He didn't know what went wrong. This is supposed to be a perfect plan. The students would arrive before anyone realized something wasn't right. His Cupcake would be there. Standing in the middle of the invisible magic circle. Holding the hand of her brat. Shocked and panic struck. Wide-eyed. He would grab hold of her wild curly hair. He would cup her pale pretty face. He would bite and bruise her lips. He would hear her moan.

He runs past the windows. He runs through the shadows. He still has time to find the door and get out of here. He still has time to jump into the red Audi, start the engine, and drive to the end of the world. Roy Manoso. Roy. He always wants to ask her why she didn't name her brat Carlos. Roy is a white boy's name. It doesn't suit a colored boy. _"You shot Derek Jeter! He's a biracial angel!" "You should have shot A-Rod!" **The Other Guys**_. Why is he thinking of  _ **The Other Guys**_? It's such a silly movie. He watched it because he knew it's the kind of movies she likes. Is her kid a biracial angel? Did he shoot the man right through his heart? Why didn't  ** _he_**  name  ** _his_**  son Carlos? He used to think it would be fun to name his first born Stephanie or Joe. The child would have her hair and eyes and his smile. The child, their child, would be beautiful. Much much more beautiful than the dark-eyed caramel- skinned straight-haired Roy. He lets out a bark of harsh laughter. Yes, he can still feel the hurt. He knows he's never healed. He has been dumped. DUMPED. That night years ago she flushed his heart and dreams down the toilet. She tore his soul apart. He was damaged beyond repair. He will never heal. He runs. He runs like Hell.

He hears shouting. He hears sounds. He needs to find a way out. He needs to find a door. He still has all the keys but his happiness is already lost. But a part of him doesn't want to go. A part of him wants to stay. A part of him wants to look Stephanie in the eyes and smiles his most charming smile when he tells her, "Happy Valentine's, Cupcake, it's payback time." A part of him wants to bend down to look at the child and tell him, "Kid, it's all your father's fault." A million emotions swell inside his heart. He almost breaks into tears. He suddenly remembers how much it hurt when his father slapped him hard across the face for the very first time. He suddenly remembers how how satisfying it was when he smacked a man in the face in his first bar brawl. The world around him doesn't feel real. Not anymore. He's tired. He's just tired. Tired of chasing impossible dreams. Tired of dreaming and wishing and thinking about the past. He's a forty-something police detective. He's good at what he does. He's still good-looking. He knows how to make women scream in ecstasy. He still has his lizard tongue. He sometimes thinks of Terry. He sometimes thinks of all the nameless faceless women. He sometimes dreams of Stephanie. When she was eight years old. When she was sixteen. When she was cuffed naked to her shower curtain rod. Yes, she's juts like a cupcake: rich and simple at the same time. Complicated and easy and in bite size. Soft and moist. Fluffy and sweet. Cheap. Tasty. Affordable. Just want he wanted. Just what he needed. And that child should be his. That beautiful tiny baby. That clever little boy. That brown-eyed dark-skinned Roy.

Revenge is a cold lonely road. She flushed his ring down the toilet. He wasn't invited to her wedding. He heard she was the most beautiful bride in the world. He heard  _ **he**_  picked the most perfect wedding gown. Her father cried. Her sister and Grandma clapped. Her mother smiled and smiled and smiled and smiled. And no one said a word when they saw her baby bump. And she's still wearing that fancy custom made wedding ring  ** _he_**  gave her. It's not a Harry Winston. But she wears it around her finger. She didn't flush it down the toilet. She's still driving those sleek black overpriced German cars. Everyone says she's happy. Everyone says  ** _he_**  is perfect for her. Everyone says the boy looks just like ** _him_**.

He smiles his sad but proud charming smile as he spots a door ahead. He runs and runs toward his freedom. He wonders why she didn't name her son after her crazy Cuban husband. He pictures the image of them entwined in bed. Muscular Mocha Latte arms wrap around her slender white body. Large rough Mocha Latte hands cup her small firm white breasts. Long monstrous Mocha Latte penis releases Mocha Latte sperm deep inside her womb. Did  ** _he_**  make her scream? Did  ** _he_**  make her moan? Did ** _he_**  make her cry out breathlessly, "Don't stop!" "Harder!" "More!"?

He runs toward the door. He has the card key ready in one hand; His gun feels warm in the other. "Cupcake..."He whispers as the thought of them having sex turns him on. "Cupcake..." No. No. No. He can't let go.


	11. Turquoise

**Turquoise**

Drew Mackintosh was shot in the chest. He was taken by surprise and didn't have time to react. Before he realized it, he was already down on the floor. He heard more gunshots. He prayed Bridget was safe and unharmed. Yes, he knew what Sheila would say. He knew he only had himself to blame. He was getting old. He was slow. Too slow. He hadn't expected to see a man with a gun in the small preparation room, truth be told. He hadn't expected to be shot in his chest. He closed his eyes and felt so tired. He had been shot before. It was no big deal. He had no one waiting for him at home this time. He was now divorced. He lived on take outs and he didn't even have a pet. No, he was not afraid of death. He was worried about Miss Mcdonald. She was young enough to be his daughter. He was glad they found the hidden man before the kids arrive. He loved kids. He always wanted to be a Dad...

"Drew! Stay with me! Drew!" Bridget Cooper presses on the wound to stop the bleeding. Jessie, the security guard at the front gate, has called the police and the ambulance is on its way. "Don't you die on me! Drew!" Bridget keeps calling. She can't believe she missed. She saw Drew get hit. She had to duck for cover and save her own life. She saw the mad man's expressionless face. She wants to run after him and stop him from doing more harm, but she has to stay with Drew, and she's not properly armed. She was trained to be a fighter and protector. She misses her gun. She misses her days as a Marine. She hates feeling helpless. Right now she's simply grateful her friend and colleague still has a pulse.

Jessie Lynn, ex-cop and mother of two college boys, runs toward the school building. She has called first 911 and then her boss Edwin Rodriguez, the school's security chief. She can hear the lean slender man running behind her and talking into his phone. Yes, she has heard of RangeMan, the small, efficient, and somewhat secretive security company that has several female contract workers but doesn't hire female field employees. She knows the young Hispanic man is either an ex-gangster or a discharged US Army soldier. She hopes he's as good as she heard. She hopes Mackintosh will be okay. She hopes they catch the mad man in time. She hopes the world is a better place, and she so want to call her boys right now to make sure they are okay.

Teddy Thompson feels a cold shiver creeping down his spine as he breathlessly finishes his call. He sometimes thinks the Jersey Devil is silently watching and making fun of this world. He sometimes thinks Karma and ghosts do exist. He had to run all the way back to where parked the truck to make this call while Freddie stays by the river to watch over the dead woman. He hopes Freddie won't get into any trouble for this. He wonders who that woman is. She looks young. She looks pretty. She looks like a nice person. He wonders what happened to her. Whoever dumped her into the river must be a local of New Jersey: he(it can't be a she, can it?) picked the perfect location; he knew what he was doing; his plan was impeccable; his only mistake was he didn't know of Freddie's mysterious and creepy ability. One thing Teddy has learned as a State Trooper is that the truth will find a way out. They always do. He takes a blanket out of the truck and heads back to the river. He tries all he can to fight the urge to sing **Beautiful Dreamer**  like Freddie did. It's such a beautiful day. But somehow no birds are singing in the trees around here. And the closer he gets to the river, the heavier his heart becomes.

What kind of crazy sick man would do such a thing to a pretty young woman like this?


	12. Sapphire

**Sapphire**

If only life is like fairy tales. If only everyone ends up with the person they truly need and want. If only everyone gets to spend the rest of their lives in love, laughter, and happiness. Then he wouldn't sitting alone in his dark empty house staring at the expensive discarded engagement ring in his hand all night thinking murderous thoughts. He wouldn't snark at his family and friends and dog. He wouldn't turn to alcohol for help and comfort. He wouldn't try to forget himself in work. He wouldn't feel so trapped, so caged, so helpless. He wouldn't become a bitter murderer. Was it all her fault? Was it all because of her betrayal? Because she stabbed him in his heart and spat in his face? Because she dumped him for that lawless crazy man? Because she toyed with his heart and destroyed his chance to happiness? Because she moved on with her life and had fun while he was still struggling to nurse his wound?

Maybe. Whatever. He doesn't care. It doesn't matter anymore. He has found a way to vent his hurt. He, too, has chosen his path. He laughs as he runs toward the door. The card key in his hand feels like Willy Wonka's Golden Ticket. He always likes chocolate. He always love cupcakes. He knows how to make pasta and lasagna. He just doesn't bother to cook. He has better use of his time. He has an important job. He's a busy man. He needs to think and plan and serve and protect. He needs to rest and relax and enjoy and love. He sometimes hopes life has a restart button. He wants and needs to set things right. He wants her to pay the price. He wants  _ **him**_  to pay the price. Life is not easy. Life hurts like a bitch. And revenge will set him free. He wanted to shoot someone the moment he saw that fat little Korean man doing horse-riding dance at Times Square on New Year's Eve. He wanted to smash his TV. He actually doesn't hate that song so much but he does hate life's absurdity. He hates it when someone other than he got lucky. He hates the cute smart sweet little boy because his Mommy and Daddy don't deserve to be happy. She lied to him. She cheated on him. He knew about the kisses in that small alley. He knew about that kiss in the bakery. He took notice of how she looked at  ** _him_**. He saw her longings. He saw her dreams. He knew she loved  ** _him_**. He knew she was in love with  ** _him_**. He was waiting for her to wake up and get real. She wasn't meant for  ** _him_**.  ** _He_**  was an outsider, an intruder, an illegal alien.  ** _He_**  didn't belong here. And  ** _he_**  stole her form him.  ** _H_ _e_**  stole her form him.

He unlocks and pushes open the door, and spends a few seconds to take in his bearings before he runs toward the staff parking lot. If only life is a box of cupcakes. If only life is a box of chocolate. If only he can turn back the clock and turn back the time. Today is a beautiful day. The sky is clear, and the air here is not as bad. He's currently on two weeks' leave with pay. He's a good police detective. He knows what he's doing. He catches bad guys for a living. He never ever thought he would grow up and become a police officer. His days in the Navy is like a faraway dream. He still remembered the excitement he felt when she followed him into the garage. He still remembers the triumph he felt when she let him in the already closed bakery. He remembers he laughed when he wrote the little poem on the men's bathroom walls. Ah, the good old days, he smiles to himself and runs as fast as he can. Did he kill that sturdy man? He can't believe he couldn't get a clean shot of that yelling muscular woman. She sure knows how to take cover and hide. His smile widens as his eyes catch sight of the red Audi A4. Yes, he still remembers the touch of sweet Caroline's soft red lips. And he did remember to thank her politely for the most pleasant night when he released her broken neck from his grasp. Women, they are so intriguing. They are so fragile. They are so soft. And he knew he was a lucky man when he first realized how much she looked like his Cupcake, his Stephanie. Well, maybe not that alike, but she does have bright blue eyes and brown curly hair, does she not? Or should he talk about her in past tense now? He really doesn't want to upset the Grammar Nazis.

He keeps smiling as he runs toward Caroline Autumn Mcdonald's car. He feels the morning wind on his face. He feels the sun on his skin. He can hear his own breathing. He can hear his pain, his hurt, and his old memories. He has heard about cause and effect. He has heard about cause and consequences. He heard Karma is a nasty mean bitch. He hasn't really thought of a Plan B, but he knows he will find a way to carry out his perfect plan. He's no quitter. He has confidence in himself. He deals with dangerous criminals all day long. He has learned a couple useful tricks. He will get what he wants. He will get what he deserves. he will correct the wrongs. He will make things right. He will prevail. He is no joke.

"Freeze!"

He yanks the car door open.

"Freeze!"

He's about to get in behind the wheel.

"Stop or I will shoot!"

He vaguely hears someone yelling. He pays them no attention. He has to concentrate on his plan. He's this close, THIS close, to success. He's Joe Morelli, ex-Navy, Trenton police detective. He's the younger son of a Catholic family. He's Grandma Bella's favorite. Every girl wants him. Every boy envies him. He's proud of his lizard tongue. He has been told a zillion times that he has a killer smile. He knows how to write dirty poems. He's the Italian Stallion. He likes Gangnam Style because it reminds him of doggie style. He knows how to make women scream in ecstasy. He's sexy and he knows it. And right now he's about to get in behind the wheel.

Jessie Lynn's hands remain on her taser as she tries to catch her breath. Ramon Santiago calmly takes aim, holds his breath, and pulls the trigger. The sound of the gunshot is deafening.

 


	13. Ocean

**Ocean**

The sound of the gunshot is deafening.

Jessie Lynn's heart skips a beat as the bullet flattens the left front tire of the red Audi. The world around her is quiet, so quiet. It is such a beautiful day. The sky is blue and the air is fresh. She can hear her blood rushing through her veins. That's Miss Mcdonald's car, Jessie tells herself as she thinks of her days as a cop. She has witnessed plenty of death. She has managed to overcome all the hardship and difficulties and raise her sons into fine young men.  _This is a fucking school._  She doesn't want to imagine what happened to Caroline Mcdonald. She just wants to yell at the tall man by the car and show him how furious she is.  _This is a place for learning. This is a place for children. This is a place of knowledge. Who the Hell are you?_ _What the Hell are you doing here? What the Hell have you done? Did you kill Drew? Did you kill Caroline? What do you want? What did you plan to do with your gun?_ It's a Glock, she suddenly realizes. She takes a cautious step forward with her fully-charged taser in both hands, a pang of hatred and resentment entering her heart. Guns and violence don't belong in school. Now she's mad with this man. So mad.

"Drop your gun. Now." Ramon Santiago's voice is calm and almost bored. He's familiar with guns. He's familiar with death. He's Catholic(Well, not a very good one, he'll admit). He's pro-life(Of course he believes condoms are a must, but he will take the responsibility like a man should accident happen). But he's not afraid to kill. Now he's aiming at the taller man's torso and he knows he will not miss. What needs to be done has to be done. He has learned a lot from his years on the street as a young gangster with a promising future in the dark cruel world. He's a very different man now, but sometimes he still thinks and feels the same. He's never a live and let live kind of guy. And he knows never to trust a suspicious man with a Glock in his hand. Ramon almost smiles. It was supposed to be a simple day. He was thinking about spending the rest of the morning in bed with his girlfriend after coming off the night shift. "I won't ask again."

Like the sands inside an hourglass, time slips away. The tension in the air is almost visible. The sirens sound from afar and come closer and closer. Ramon's breathing is slow and even, his hands steady and dry. Jessie tells herself to stay focused and take another small step closer. "Drop it. NOW!" Her voice is authoritative and firm. She used to be a good cop. She is a good mom. She takes her life and new job seriously. It's safer to keep at a proper distance. But she doesn't want to miss her target. She hopes they can get things under control as soon as possible before the police arrives. The ambulance will be here any time. Very, very slowly the dark taller man squares his shoulders and takes a long, deep breath. He doesn't seem nervous or worried or scared. He's still holding his gun. He's still standing by the car. All of a sudden he begins to laugh. He laughs so hard that his whole body shakes like a leaf in November.

Oh yeah, life is not easy. Truth is not easy. That much he knows. And sometimes they both hurt. Especially when your dreams and love crumbled like a castle made of sand right in front of your tearless eyes. And what hurt the most was that you knew there was nothing you could do. It was damaged beyond fixing. What had been gone was forever lost. All your prayers went unanswered. One by one your hopes died in an extremely slow and painful way. She's not what you think. She's not who she said she is. She's no longer familiar. She's no different from a complete stranger. It turns out you never truly know her and you thought you would be happy together. You can't even describe how much it hurts. You just want the pain to stop. You just want to die. You just want to turn back the clock and turn back the time. And you can't stop blaming yourself for being so stupid. How could you be so trusting? How could you be so naïve? How could you be fooled so easily? How could you? How could you?

You are a grown man. You are an adult. You traveled far and wide when you were in the Navy. You set off the explore the world after leaving the Navy. You left the Navy when you realized you would never become a SEAL. You didn't have what it takes in you. You were not qualified. You were not good enough.  _Go home and find yourself a nice girl, kid. When a door closes, another opens. Take care. Be safe. Have fun. Goodbye. Ciao. Hasta la vista, babe._ Babe. You always wanted to roar at the top of your lungs and kill someone with your bare hands when you heard  ** _him_**  call her "Babe". She was your Cupcake. She was your Stephanie. Yours. Yours. The two of you were meant to be. She would learn how to cook. You would try not to yell. You were a perfect match. You loved her crazy hair. You loved her clear blue eyes. You were a lonely mature boy. She was a sweet curious girl. And you, too, were curious and eager to know the world. You had your ups and downs and twists and turns. You fought. You made up. You fought. You made up. Her mother no longer objected. Your mother rolled her eyes as if saying, "Oh, what the Hell?". You thought everything would be perfect. You did your homework. You had it all planned. She wasn't exactly perfect. She wasn't exactly what you wanted and needed. But she was cute and sexy. And there was no one else. No one.

And then that night you had another fight. She packed her things and ran away. She never came back. She flushed your ring down the toilet without blinking as if it was nothing. It was a Harry Winston. It cost you almost everything. And she flushed it down the toilet.  _S_ he flushed it down  ** _His_**  toilet.  ** _His_**  toilet. And then she herself became  ** _his_**. It didn't take long and everybody was happy. So happy. Everybody. Except you. You and your cold dark corner. You and your cold dark thoughts. You and your burning ache. You and your bleeding gaping heart. You and all your memories and shattered dreams. You never know what went wrong. You can't find anyone to listen. And deep down within you know nobody will ever understand. Nobody. You are the one who is left out. You are a supporting actor, a faceless passerby, an irreverent bystander. And thus your hatred grew. And grew. And grew. Till it reached its peak. Till it screamed in your head every night and day, demanding action, demanding revenge. So now here you are. Caught. Busted. There is no Heaven. There is no Hell. God does not exist. All is cruel in love and war. And Fate is a lying bitch.

"It ain't over till I say it's over." Joe Morelli murmurs to himself under his breath, turns around, raises his gun, and pulls the trigger.

The sound of the gunshot is deafening.

 


	14. Sky

**Sky**

Sweet. Soft. Slender. Curly hair. Bright eyes. Cupcake. Stephanie.

He lets our a small happy sigh and smiles. They are both naked in his bed. He loves waking up next to her. He loves having pre-work sex with her in early hours when she's not fully awake. She won't resist. She won't protest. She just moans and lets him dominate her and have his way with her. She's just what he needs. She makes him feel solid. She makes him feel happy. He snakes a hand around her waist as he feels himself hardening against her buttocks, and leans in to nibble her neck. He can already imagine the pleasure she's going to give him in less than 2 minutes. She mutters something under her breath and his smile deepens. Sometimes she doesn't even remember what happened. She thinks it was a dream. And she never takes notice of his secret smile. He will sink deep into her softness. He will quicken his movement. He will get his release. He will jump up from bed. He will go grab a shower. He will feel alive. He will feel energetic. He will—

He suddenly remembers: he just had a weirdest dream.

He can't recall all the details but he knows his dream is sad. He feels cold. He's all alone. He's full of anger and bitterness. He's treacherous. He's cool. He's cold. He looked down at his hands. He couldn't see any blood. He knew he had killed someone. He knew he had become a monster. He killed her with his own bare hands. He had a gun. It was a Glock. He was mad. He was desperate. He needed to find a way out. He felt he was trapped. He hated being trapped. He saw a colorful cat. He wasn't a cat person and who was Roy? Roy. Roy...Manoso.

Manoso?

He widens his eyes and freezes. He's no longer beside Stephanie. He's all alone in his bed. She's nowhere to be seen. He's naked. He has just ejaculated and now his bed is a mess. He can feel the coolness in the air. He can taste last night's meatball and pepperoni pizza and beer. He smells like tequila. The house is dark and quiet and his bed feels unfamiliar. He places his hand on his sweaty hairy chest. He tries to calm his heart. He tries to even his breath. He closes his eyes. All he sees is darkness. He's single now. He's no longer engaged. Stephanie has left him. She came back here one night to return his ring. She dumped him. "Goodbye, Joe." Her voice was emotionless. Her voice was low. She didn't come alone. She didn't stay for break-up sex. Lula and Connie and Mary Lou were waiting outside in the car. Ranger's car. Ranger. Porsche. Cayenne. She walked out of the door without a backward glance. She didn't give him the chance to change her mind. She didn't give him the time to win her back. She didn't even stop on her way out to hug Bob tight in her arms and cry. She flushed his ring down the toilet. Ranger's toilet. She's staying with Ranger now. He heard she's pregnant. He doesn't know why he didn't sell the ring. Harry Winston. Princess cut. She could be his princess and the mother of his kids. But she chose to be Ranger's slut. She once told him Ranger doesn't do relationship and stupid things like marriage and babies. She was drunk that night. Then she fell asleep while they were having sex. The very next day he drove all the way to New York and bought her the ring. The ring she later flushed down the toilet after a huge fight over nothing.

Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.

She flushed his ring down Ranger's toilet. She packed her things and left him and immediately crawled into Ranger's bed. She wasted no time at all. And now she's pregnant. And Lula calls the child, the fetus, Bat Baby because its father, the lawless perfect stranger, is Batman. Stupid woman's logic. It makes him want to laugh. It makes him want to kill someone with his bare hands. It makes him want to put a bullet between Ranger's eyes. He tries to let go. He tries to move on. He knows he can find someone else if he really wants. But he's so angry. So so angry. He didn't stop when her neck broke. He didn't stop when every cell within his body told him she was dead. He didn't want to let go. He wanted to prolong her pain. He looked into her blue eyes and saw her fear. "Cupcake," He smiled and laughed and snorted and spat. "Cupcake."

Maybe he is mad. Maybe he only has himself to blame. Maybe it was nobody's fault. Maybe love is blind. Maybe everything is fair in love and war. He doesn't care. He won't give a damn. He dreams his sad little dreams. He walks his lonely chosen path. He bought her roses, red, red long stem roses. He went down on his knee and proposed. People gasped and cheered and clapped. The aroma of pizza filled the air. She said yes. She said yes. She broke her own promise and ran away. She stabbed him in the heart. She spat in his face. She took off her clothes and climbed into another man's bed. She's carrying Ranger's baby and soon they will be married. Their Grandmas and parents have met, he overheard. Everybody is happy and he's trapped inside his anger and loneliness. Whenever he thinks of her he thinks of her betrayal and all the time he wasted. When he holds the diamond ring in his hand he wants to strangle her to death. So he made the plan. So he set out to seek revenge. So here he is, standing tall in the face of adversity and danger, feeling brave and dauntless and oh so alone. Like Rocky. Like Rambo. Like a lonely hero.

Stephanie. Cupcake. Blue eyes. Wide hair. Slender. Sweet, tasty, and soft. Stephanie and Roy. A man's dream. A man's hope. A man's life. A man's joy. Stephanie and Roy. Manoso. Manoso. Ranger. Ricardo Carlos. Bounty hunter. Ex-special forces. CEO. Husband. Father.

He smiled and turned around. He raised his gun and laughed out loud. He pulled the trigger.

The sound of the gunshot was deafening. His Glock dropped from his hand. He twitched as the bullet hit him. His eyes rolled into the back of his head. He fell. He felt the burning pain but didn't scream or yell. He could smell his own blood. He had failed. Failed. Failed.

Stephanie Manoso slowly wakes up. She sits up and places a hand above her heart. She just had a strangest dream. She doesn't remember anything; she only knows it was dark and a little scary. She feels a bit worried but doesn't know what she's worrying about. Must be the weather, she soon decides. Or maybe she shouldn't have sneaked out of bed last night and devoured the rest of the lemon cheese cake. Anyway, it wasn't her fault. Not really. She's carrying twins and she has needs. And lemon is very good to health. She gets out of the king size bed, puts on her robe and tells herself not to overreact.

It's but a dream.

 


	15. Forget Me Not

**Forget Me Not**

Pack your stuff and get out of here. Drive across the country. Buy bottled water at a gas stations. Eat at a roadside diner. Wake up in a small motel room. Look at yourself in the mirror. Cut yourself shaving. Finally get to your destination. Hide behind your sunglasses. Walk down the beach and smell the sea. Put everything behind. Don't call your Mom. Throw your anti-depression pills into the ocean. Forget your alcohol-damaged brain and broken dreams. The blonde in bikini looks your way again. You don't like the artificial smile on her face. You don't like the color of her waterproof lip gloss. Love cuts through your heart like a knife as you think of the six-year-old Stephanie.

That hot summer day. Inside your father's garage. Her big blue eyes. Your ingenious plan. She made you think of cupcakes. Yep, that's why you love cupcakes so much. That's why you walked in the bakery she worked part-time in when you were eighteen. You wanted her to sell you a cannoli. She blushed and smiled when you called her "Cupcake". She was sweet and pretty. She was curious and adventurous. She was such an easy target. She was willing. You breathed in the foul smell of urine. You smiled at the memories. You kept writing. You chose your words carefully. You knew it was gonna be a masterpiece. You were leaving tomorrow morning. She was the perfect farewell gift.

How things have changed.

Life is not easy. Truth is not easy. Sometimes they both hurt. Especially when your dreams and love crumble like a castle made of sand right in front of your teary eyes. And what hurts the most is that you know there's nothing you can do. It's damaged beyond fixing. What is gone id forever lost. All you can do is lie in your bed and cry, and cry, and cry, as all your prayers go unanswered and all your hopes slowly die in agony.

She's not what you think. She's not who she said she is. She's no longer familiar. She's no different from a complete stranger. It turns out you never truly know her. And you thought the two you would be happy together. You can't even describe how much it hurts. You just want the pain to stop. You just want the world to end. You just want to die. You just want to turn back the clock and turn back the time. And you can't stop blaming yourself for being so stupid. How could you be so trusting? How could you be so naïve? How could you be fooled so easily? How could you? You betrayed yourself. You stabbed yourself in the back. You let yourself down. Down. Down.

You can't bare the sight of them together. You think of leaving. You want to leave everything behind. You want to start a new life. But this is your hometown, too. Why should you be the one to leave? All your friends and families are here. Your dog is here. Your house is here. And you like your job. It wasn't your fault. It wasn't your fault.  **IT WASN'T YOUR FAULT!** You aren't the one to blame. You did nothing wrong. Nothing. Nothing at all. You want to punch people in their faces when you see their meaningful smile. You want to slap people around when you overhear them making jokes of you behind your back. You refuse to give in. you are no loser. You are the tough guy here. You are a police detective. You are the instrument of the law. You demand respect . You have power. One day you will get your chance. Someday you will have your revenge.

_Ah, Joseph, someday is such a tricky word._

He ignores the little voice in his head. He looks down at the scene bellow. He sees himself lying on the ground. He smells his own blood. But he feels no pain. He hears the sirens. He stares at himself. He stares at the slender Hispanic man. He stares at the female security guard. His face looks sad and pale. There's a hole in his chest. There's blood everywhere. He has been shot. He didn't have enough time to fire his Glock. He was aiming at the overweight old women. He didn't like the color of her hair. He didn't like the taser in her hands. He didn't like the look on her face. He didn't like the color of her eyes. She reminded him of Helen Plum. He hates Helen Plum.

_But I guess it doesn't matter now, Joseph._   _Not any more._

He snarls at the little voice in his no longer aching head. But the little voice simply laughs.

_We are born to die, Joseph. We are born to die._

He screams furiously. But he doesn't make a sound. He has failed. Failed. Failed.

Failed.

And he's going to die.

 


	16. Melancholy

**Melancholy**

Drew Mackintosh opens his eyes and sees his best friend's worried face. Sheila isn't here. He smiles apologetically and tries his best to hide his disappointment. Since he has no next of kin, he listed fellow retired NYPD detective Tony Napoli as his emergency contact. Tony and his wife Lisa invite him over for Thanksgiving and Christmas every year ever since his divorce. Their youngest son Jake is his godson, and he's really grateful to have them as friends. Drew used to go to Jake's baseball games when he still lived in New York. The sound of the kids shouting, laughing, cheering, and arguing made him forget the darkness he'd witnessed and made him feel alive again. He and Sheila had been having problems for years but he always chose to ignore them. She couldn't give him children but he loved(and probably still loves) her just the same. He knew it was all his fault. His job took up too much time and his mother was not a very pleasant mother-in-law. He knew Sheila sometimes cried at night but he never wrapped her in his arms and told her everything was going to be alright. She was never the needy or clingy type. She hated feeling weak. And the sad truth is: he didn't know what to say and he didn't want to expose his helplessness. He had no choice but to let her go the day she told him she had had enough. It was all his fault. He was the one to blame. He loves her so much. He had to set her free.

"Always have to be the hero, don't you?" Tony smiles and shakes his shining bald head. "Lisa made some soup for you."

He feels sorry for his best friend. Every time he sees the sadness in Drew's eyes, he feels the urge to thank God for his three great children and his loving wife. Lisa has left a dozen messages on Sheila's cell phone and answering machine. But Sheila never returns the call. Drew's ex-wife is indeed a very beautiful woman, but her heart is way too cold. Yes, being a cop's wife is not an easy job. No, Drew was not the best husband in the world. And yes, they are already divorced. But still. Tony silently sighs as he looks at his friend's pale face. They have been through Hell together and Drew is closer to him than a brother. Right now he's simply grateful Drew didn't die. He prays that time really can heal any wound. Maybe he should buy some flowers for Lisa on the way home, or maybe...

"Take Lisa out for dinner tonight. And thank her for me." Drew says weakly. The bullet cracked his rib but luckily didn't penetrate his lung. He lost a lost of blood and it hurts like Hell. He knows the shooter is staying in the same hospital but strangely he feels no hate. He knows Miss Mcdonald is dead and he feels very sad. The woman he loves has walked out of his life and won't return. But at least he still has his friends, and he's good at finding happiness in small things and everyday life. They found the shooter before he had the chance to cause greater harm and damage, and the young man reacted fast and stopped the shooter from getting away. Bridget wasn't hurt. No children were hurt. Sheila has moved on and seems to lead a happy busy life. All's well ends well. Focus on the silver lining and sooner or later you'll be able to forget the pain. We make our own choices. We face the consequences of our actions. No excuse. No blaming game. We are all grown-ups here.

And Lisa Napoli makes the best soup in the world.


	17. Star

**Star**

He's alive. He's awake. He's not talking.

People come and go. Total strangers. Familiar faces. Shock. Disbelief. Curiosity. Loathing. Endless questions. They let his mother and sister see him. His brother and cousin got him a lawyer. The bullet punctured his lung but missed his heart. He lost a lot of blood. He almost died. He hates "almosts". He hate "What ifs". He feels weak. He feels tired. He feels the pain of his body. He regrets nothing. No death penalty in New Jersey. He will live. He didn't dream of the woman he killed. He thinks of her blue eyes from time to time. He actually liked her smiling face. He liked the warm softness of her lips, too, he'll admit. She reminded him of Stephanie. She reminded him of his forsaken dreams. But life is a script and Romeo has to die. Once upon a time he fell in love. Then shit happened and someone had to pay for his broken heart. The end.

His mother wouldn't stop crying. His lawyer looks smart and boring. He sometimes dreams of the colorful cat and the little boy named Roy. He sometimes dreams of Stephanie. He knows she's unlike normal people, but she really should have named her son Carlos. He's their first born. And what's the name of the cat? He never had a cat. He no longer has a dog. He misses his dog. He misses the loyalty. He misses the playfulness. He misses the unconditional faith and the solid warmth. He used to have a life. Now he has nothing. Nothing at all. He couldn't handle his mother's tears. He couldn't face his sister's wrath. He has become a burden. He has become a shame. He looks at the world around him. He makes not a sound. He keeps his pain and hurt inside. He doesn't share. He's like Batman. The tall handsome man who keeps a dark secret. The lean mysterious man whose whole life is a lie. The lone wolf who plays by his own rules and dances to his own drum.

He closes his eyes and lets out a smile. Loneliness is a relative word. He has no room for regret and no time for remorse. He sometimes wonders what he did wrong. He had always been honest. He had never lied to her or cheated on her. He just kept certain facts to himself. That was his duty as a police detective. He had vowed to protect and serve. He had to put his job first. He had to think for the greater good. He had to make sacrifices. He knew his priorities. How could she blame him for doing his job? He loved her. He just wanted to protect her and keep her safe. He just wanted to keep her away from danger. He just wanted her to choose the common path and her betrayal was too hard to swallow. He doesn't love her anymore. But a part of him, the anxious nervous lonely forty-something man deep down within, still wants her.

He ignores the sudden drop of tear and lets it roll down his cheek. His chest is hurting again. So is his head. He's alone and maybe lonely. He made his decision and chose his own path. He tries not to overthink. He tries not to dream. He is a grown-up man. He doesn't care. He doesn't give a fuck. He doesn't give a damn. He refuses to be fragile and vulnerable. No remorse. No regret. He's a tough man and tough man sheds no tear. He lies in his narrow hospital bed with his eyes closed, listening to his own breathing. He knows one of his nurses, the dark-haired brown-eyed one, is interested in him. Her hands always linger on him a little too long. But she probably won't help get him out of here and run away to the end of the world with him. She looks like a smart practical woman. She probably has seen and been through a lot. She probably knows that some risks are not worth taking. And he doesn't like the color of her hair. And her front teeth are too big. And her parents shouldn't have named her Stephanie.

_Ah, the absurdity of life, Joseph._

"There's no such thing as loving two men, Cupcake. You cheated on me." Joe Morelli whispers again and again under his breath after the little voice is his head stops laughing. "You cheated on me."


	18. Moon

**Moon**

She knows it wasn't her fault but still she can't help blaming herself for what happened.

She knew something was off with Morelli but she didn't pay it any attention. She shrugged it off. Morelli was no longer a part of her life. He was a combination of shady history and unpleasant memories. She just wanted to put everything behind her and keep moving forward. She should have told Ranger. The way Morelli looked at her in Pino's that day months ago scared her a little. She felt a cold shiver creeping down her spine the moment their eyes met, and she basically grabbed her pizzas and ran away like a frightened rabbit. The burning resentment in his cold brown eyes made her nauseous. They didn't part ways on good terms. He yelled a lot of hurtful things. She packed and left and flushed his ring down the toilet. He was her first in almost everything, and he, too, liked pizza, beer, and hockey games. She'd thought she loved him. She'd thought they could share a life together. She'd thought she would be happy if her mother was happy. But she was wrong.

Every time she woke up from a dream in the middle of the night and found herself beside him, uncertainty and doubts clawed at her heart till it bled. Something deep down inside her kept telling her she'd made a terrible mistake. She shouldn't have accepted his ring. She shouldn't have made a promise she could not keep. He was not what she wanted. He was not what she needed. He was not the one she loved. He was familiar. He was easy. He was...just there. He was like a 24-hour McDonald drive-through. He was like the vibrator inside her bedside table drawer. A quick way to feed her need. An easy way to silence her desire. And one morning when she looked into the mirror while brushing her teeth and started missing her shabby apartment and ugly bathroom, she realized she didn't want to be Stephanie Morelli. She wanted to to call off the wedding but didn't have the courage to tell Morelli in his face. It was too late to back out. She would no doubt cause a scene. She would become a laughing stock. Morelli would be mad. Her mother would be beyond upset. She would end up hurting everyone. So she told herself to suck it up and get it over with. She knew she couldn't be so selfish. But she couldn't stop wanting to be happy. And she couldn't stop picking fights with Morelli and finding fault in everything he said and did.

He finally snapped. She ran to Ranger and flushed the ring down the toilet. And now she's Stephanie Manoso, soon-to-be mother of three. From time to time a small part of her still feels ashamed for what she did. But every morning when she wakes up in her husband's arms, every time she sees their son's sleeping face, she wants to sing and dance and celebrate the beauty of life. All is fair in love and war. She feels so sorry for Miss Mcdonald. She can't thank Mr. Mackintosh, Ramon, and the other security guards enough. She knows what she did wasn't fair. She knows she was being immature. She knows she was being selfish. But she can't and will never forgive Morelli for what he planned to do to Roy. He should have moved on. He should have let go. He should have put everything behind and tried his best to find someone else and be happy. Her mother is right, Stephanie finally decides. Instead of finding excuses, people should take responsibility for their own actions and stop playing blaming games. She just wanted to be happy. She simply chose what's the best for her.

"C'est la vie." She looks into Richard Parker's clear green eyes and quietly says. The black-and-white cat twitches his tail and looks at her lazily as if thinking about meowing. It's such a beautiful afternoon. Her husband and son are on the way home. Stephanie Manoso scratch the cat's chin and laughs as she recalls the fierce look in her mother's eyes. No, it wasn't her fault. And yes, she deserves to be happy.


	19. Demon

**Demon**

It was his fault. All his fault. He cheated on Caroline, broke her heart, and got her killed. He wasn't invited to her funeral. His mother and sister are not talking to him. Caroline's mother slapped him hard and screamed a lot of hurtful words. Amy called and couldn't stop crying. He hung up on her and she hasn't called again. He has nothing to say to her. His brain is empty. His heart is a mess. He always always wanted Amy but now he doesn't want to see her again. They can't be happy together now that Caroline is dead. He was being selfish. He was being a jerk. He betrayed Caroline's trust. He betrayed Caroline's love. He lied and lied and blamed everything on Caroline instead.

He closes his eyes and sees the tears in Caroline's sad blue eyes. He smothers a sob and hears the pain in Caroline's broken voice. He can't sleep. He can't eat. He can't concentrate on his work. The unbearable guilt is driving him insane. He wants to tell Caroline how sorry he is. He lost his high school sweetheart. He lost a lot of friends. He feels so helpless. He feels so frustrated. He feels so trapped and so ashamed. He had it all but threw it away. He's a liar. He's a cheater. He's a rat bastard. He misses Caroline. He loved Caroline. He lost Caroline. He misses Amy. He loves Amy. He lost Amy, too. They can't be together. He doesn't deserve to be happy. Not any more. It was his fault. All his fault.

He opens his eyes and looks at the face on the computer screen. He has read through all the stories, gossip, and rumours. The good police detective. The handsome stranger. The abandoned fianc _é_. The cold-blooded killer. The Harry Winston ring. The tortured soul. Life is stranger than fairy tales. He wants to laugh. He wants to yell. No death penalty in New Jersey.

How unfair.


	20. Painful Regrets

**Painful Regrets**

Frank Plum startles awake and lets out a gasp. It's but a dream, he blinks rapidly and suddenly realizes. Relief washes over him. He slowly sits up and puts a hand over his speeding heart. Next to him Helen is still soundly asleep. In the small bedroom down the short corridor, Enda keeps snoring like a grizzly bear. Everything is peace and quiet. Frank takes a deep breath and slips out of bed. He puts on his robe and heads down the stairs. He knows he won't be able to sleep tonight. He sits down in his chair in the dark living room, feeling old and tired. He just had the same nightmare again. And as usual it left him feeling helpless and despair. It always starts with him standing inside the old, cold classroom. He wants to run forward but can't move a limb. He wants to shout but can't make a sound. He wishes he has a gun, a sword, a brick, a stone in his shaking hand. He wants to do something, anything. He knows he has to help. He is their only hope. However, he can only stand there watching the horrible scene unfold:

_"Please, please don't hurt him! I will do anything! ANYTHING!" Stephanie pleaded and begged on both knees _as tears_  streamed down her bruised face. "Please don't hurt him!"_

_"Mommy! Mommy" Little Roy screams in extreme terror and pain, his beautiful little face all covered in blood."Mommy! Help!"_

_And Joe Morelli simply laughed. And then took aim. And then pulled the trigger of his huge shining AR-15. And then killed them both. He murdered Frank's beloved daughter and grandson. Right in front of Frank's bulging eyes. And Morelli laughed. And Laughed. And Laughed._

That's when Frank always wakes up, with Joe Morelli's crazy laughter ringing in his ears. Frank rubs his face with shaking hands. The first time he had this nightmare, he woke up in Helen's arms and cried like a terrified child. When he looked up from his breakfast the next morning and met Edna's worried yet strangely understanding eyes, Frank didn't feel ashamed. They were both grateful their loved ones were safe and unharmed. They were both happy Joe Morelli would pay the price for his crime. They were both frightened. They were both scared. From that moment on, though they still fight for the bathroom every morning, though they still have different opinions on almost everything, the two of them feel like a family for the very first time in many many years. But still, Frank can't help feeling afraid. And now he's having regrets.

He should've done something the day Joe Morelli lured Stephanie into that dirty garage. He should've done something the day Joe Morelli wrote about Stephanie on public bathroom walls. He should've done something the day Joe Morelli came here uninvited for dinner. He should've sounded his objection. He should've expressed his opinion. He shouldn't have kept his silence. He shouldn't have lied to himself. It wasn't cute. It wasn't innocent. It wasn't boys being boys. It wasn't that simple. Some things should not be forgotten. Some things should not be forgiven. Some people will never change. He should have taught Joe Morelli a lesson. He should have taken notice of Joe Morelli's craziness. He should have been a better father. He failed to protect Stephanie when she was six. He failed to protect Stephanie when she was sixteen. He failed her countless times. And this time, he almost lost Roy and the twins. He almost lost them all. The mere thought of this makes him so angry, so furious. He has visited the wounded security guard in the hospital. He has thanked the young man who works for Ranger. He felt very sorry for Angie Morelli and the young teacher. He will never forgive Joe Morelli. He can't stop blaming himself.

"Stop punishing yourself. It's not your fault." Frank jumps a little as his mother-in-law says quietly from the dark hallway. "We all have regrets. We all make mistakes. We all wish we can turn back time. We all need to learn to move on and let go. " Enda Mazur turns on the light and comes to sit down on the couch. Her smile is warm and a little bit tired. She's still very healthy, but seems smaller than she was last year. They both know she won't live forever. One day she will have to leave her loved ones behind. "Just keep in mind that Stephanie and the babies are all happy and safe. Helen already has enough to worry about."

Frank Plum slowly nods, and turns on the TV. He flips through the channels until he finds an old movie they both like. Together they watch the black-and white film in silence. And when Helen Plum comes downstairs the next morning, they are both smiling in their dreams.


	21. Sudden Confession

**Sudden Confession**

"You don't understand. I want him dead." Helen Plum closes her eyes and clasps her hands. Her voice is quiet. Her face is tired. She can no longer hide the anguish inside. She has to confess. Even though she's feeling ashamed. "I want to stab his heart with a knife. I want to claw his eyes out. I want to chop off his hands. I want to shoot him through his head. I want to erase him from our memory and our life. I should have called the police when he took advantage of Stephanie again. I should have slammed the door in his face when he came uninvited that night. But I was too busy being considerate. I was was too busy being polite."

Helen lets out a small sob and dabs at her eyes. She doesn't turn to face her silent friend. Her voice quivers a little as she tries to smile. "They said it was just boys being boys. They said it was nothing to worry about. They said he was actually a nice clever child deep down inside. They said it wasn't really all his fault. He had a hard time growing up in a family like that. He was going to join the Navy. He loved his country. He deserved another chance. And I let them persuade me. I let him get away with what he had done. It was all my fault. I made the same mistake twice. Stephanie was the one who paid the price. People made fun of her. She became the laughing stock of town. No decent boy wanted to going out with a girl like that. She lost several friends. And I made dinner for that rat bastard. I treated him like an honorable guest. I thought he was the right man for my daughter. I thought he had changed.

"Oh God, how stupid was I? They said I needed to stop overreacting. They said I should learn to be more forgiving. They wanted me to act like a good Catholic. Can you believe that? Now I just want to slap them and spit in their faces. Every single one of them. Those shameless hypocrite who took the side of the predator and ridiculed the victim. They said Stephanie was the one to blame. She should have been more careful. She should have been smarter. She should have known better. They said it was Stephanie's fault."

Helen's whole body trembles as she breaks down in tears. Without a word Isabela Manoso holds her in-law tight in her arms. The two of them have become good friends over the years. They are about the same age. They are both bossy mothers. They are both great chefs and excellent bakers. From time to time they will drop everything and have a girls' day out together, gossiping about their crazy families, exchanging recipes and tips. They both know know how hard it is to have stubborn kids. They both love little Roy. And the tragic incident at their grandson's school has not only given them nightmares but also shaken their souls.

Isabela knows exactly how Helen feels. She herself almost died the night Carlos got shot by the mad man who'd kidnapped Julie. The moment Isabela wrapped Julie in her arms outside Carlos's hospital ward, she too, wanted to tear the man apart into pieces with her own bare hands. She, too, has daughters. She feels sorry for poor Helen. And the day she learned that the mad man had killed himself in the mental hospital ward, she actually felt happy and relieved. Some people don't deserve to be human. Some people don't deserve to live. The mad man can't do harm anymore. Carlos and Julie will be safe. That's what matters. She has every right to be harsh. She has the right to be selfish. She will do anything and everything to keep her loved ones safe. She has it in her to become a merciless avenger. She's a mother. Some things can't be forgiven. She can't even imagine what Hell Carlos would go through had anything happened to Stephanie, Roy, or the babies. Isabela Manoso gently pats Helen Plum on the back as tears well up in her own eyes.

Yes. She, too, wants Joe Morelli dead.

 


	22. Vengeful Avenger

**Vengeful Avenger**

He checks his gun. He checks himself in the mirror. Today's the day. The day when everything ends. He was a lousy father. He never paid child support. He spent all his time and money on poker games, alcohol, and whores. He knows it wasn't all his fault. His ex-wife was—still is, and will always be—a bitter, demanding woman. He was never good enough for her. He could never do anything right. Every time he looked into her cold unhappy reproachful eyes, a small portion of him died inside. That's the reason why one day he simply woke up, walked out of the house, and never came back. Yep, he'd thought of their daughter sometimes and felt guilty about leaving her behind. But he knew he was no father material and his ex-wife was a terrific mother. He believed he'd made the right choice. The girl would be happier without him; she deserved a better dad. It broke his heart to learn about her death. Caroline Autumn. His sweet little girl. He doesn't even have a photograph of her. He could barely recognize her face when they showed her picture on TV. He considered calling his ex-wife, and soon decided it was a bad idea. No doubt the bitch would blame everything on him. And now, he's going to punish the person who's responsible for Caroline's death.

He read everything in the paper. He went to the public library and Googled the case. His daughter never had a new father. She was sweet, loving, and too trusting. She was a good teacher. Everyone liked or loved her. She was so young, so beautiful. Suddenly he can see the happiness in her eyes the only time he and her mother took her to the zoo and bought her ice cream, cotton candy, and a pink balloon. He can still hear her laughter. He blinks fiercely and wipes away his tears. The State of New Jersey has no death penalty. No murderer should walk away from murder. An eye for an eye. A life for a life. Thus is the law of the Lord.

He checks his gun again, tucks the gun in his waist, and locks the door of his shabby one-bedroom apartment. He feels peaceful as he drives away to his destination. He's a bit hungry but doesn't stop for any breakfast. He doesn't have many friends. He's always a lonely man.

He is but a heartbroken father.


	23. Magic Bullets

**Magic Bullets**

The murder suspect will be released from the hospital tomorrow. He'll be locked behind bars awaiting trial. Some of the media has lost interest in this case. There will always be bigger, more complicated and controversial murders out there. The Trenton Police Department still has no comment. The general public just wants to sit back, drink beer, get on with their lives and enjoy a baseball game. No one in the hospital pays extra attention to the aged janitor. It's a quiet, pleasant afternoon. The police officer stationed outside the special ward yawns as the janitor pushes the cart into the door. The murder suspect/patient lies awake in the narrow bed with his right hand cuffed to the bed rail. The small ward has no TV and no window. His face is blank, but no longer pale. Sometimes he will wake up in the dead of the night feeling panic, his frantic eyes searching the darkness for Ranger.

Yes, he knows Ranger won't let this go. He knows Ranger will want revenge. He knows Ranger won't allow anyone to endanger Stephanie's and the little boy's lives. He also knows how much Ranger likes to take things into his own hands. He has no doubt that a man like Ranger can easily find a way to get away with murder. He turns his face toward the wall and lets out a soft humourless laugh. Nurse Stephanie is currently away on vacation. By the time she comes back. he'll be already gone. He doesn't expect anybody to visit him in the prison. His lawyer is trying to work out a plea bargain. He knows they will give him an isolated cell. He's an ex-cop. He threw countless scum and animals behind bars, and those people sure know how to hold grudges. He remembers the desire and resentment in Terry's eyes when he squeezed her for information. Sometimes they ended up in bed. Sometimes he didn't make it to the bed. He remembers Terry's screams, moans, and gasps. He missed the intense pleasure and the sense of conquering he always felt. No, it didn't count as cheating. Keeping his informant happy was part of his job. His breathing and heart rate quicken. Memories of Terry's naked body turns him on. He sometimes feels the urge to brag about all the nasty dirty little things he made Stephanie do when Ranger shows up with a gun. Oh yeah, he will always be Stephanie's first in so many things. Should he describe to her loving, over-protective husband her sound she made and her sweet tight wetness?

"Joe Morell."

He's startled by the stranger's cold raspy voice. He turns his head and looks at the janitor. He doesn't like what he sees in those familiar brownish blue eyes. The uneasy feeling in his belly grows stronger. Then he sees the gun in the thin old man's steady hand. He hears the gunshot before he actually feels the tearing, scorching pain.

"I'm James Mcdonald, Caroline Autumn Mcdonald's father. You killed my daughter." The old man stares into his eyes and calmly starts pulling the trigger "It's payback time."

By the time the panicking police officer barges into the ward with gun raised and yells, "Freeze!", the magazine of Mr. Mcdonald's gun is empty. Joe Morelli is already dead.

 


	24. Sand Of Time

**Sand Of Time**

"You bastard. You bastard."

James Mcdonald's face remains blank as his ex-wife cries and sobs. The woman he once loved now looks tired and old. Her sadness is overwhelming, and somehow he believes it's all his fault. He did the only thing he could do. He likes and feels a little sorry for the public defender assigned to him. The death of Caroline's killer hasn't, and won't change anything. He has confessed everything. He plans to plead guilty. No one should be allowed to walk away with murder. He wants to stand in front of the judge and the jury and tell the whole world how he gunned down his only child's murderer. He wants to tell everyone who's willing to listen how empty he feels. He knows the distinction between last-minute self defense and cold-blooded murder. He's still hurting over the loss of his daughter. He knows he will never be able to forgive himself for intentionally neglecting her for so many years. Isn't it sad when death and violence are the only answer and comfort? Why should homeless cats and dogs die while murderers and rapists live on forever? Where the Hell is justice? What's the real purpose of laws? His ex-wife's wailing is giving him a headache. He secretly wishes Jane can reach through the glass and slap him, strangle him, and spit in his face. He totally deserves it.

Yesterday the young man who's not exactly right in the head and calls himself Fisherman came to pay him a visit. He had wanted to thank the kid for finding Caroline though he still found the tale creepy, and he burst into tears when Fisherman looked him in the eyes and told him the pretty young lady said she was sorry. He cried so hard that he could hardly breathe. He looks at Lucy and, for the first time in a very long time, sees how beautiful she truly is.

"I'm sorry." James Mcdonald says quietly as his ex-wife keeps on crying. "So sorry." For everything he said. For everything he did. For all the things he didn't bother to say. For all the things he should have done but never did. A drop of tear escapes his eye.

He should have saved his last bullet for himself.


	25. The Darkest Hour

**The Darkest Hour**

It's a small and quick funeral, family only. Everybody is quiet; no one sheds a tear. Not even the heartbroken old Mrs. Morelli. Her younger son is buried next to her mother-in-law. She turns away and slowly walks toward the waiting car with the help of her older and now only son. She has nothing to say. Her heart feels empty. A lot of things things went wrong when Joe was a kid. She was too busy dealing with life and her constantly cheating and sometimes violent husband. She didn't raise Joe right. She was too exhausted. She was bone-tired. She neglected the signs. And now Joe had paid the price. She knows she will never be able to forgive herself. She has tried to blame Stephanie but failed. She's glad it's over now. She's tired of making excuses. She has grown used to the way people stare at her. She's a murderer's mother. She feels no anger toward her son's killer. She doesn't have many years left. Now she just wants to go home and take a nap with her youngest grandson's cat. She always likes cats. The Morellis get in their cars and drive away. Evening falls. It's a moonless night, the seventh day of the seventh month in lunar calendar *****.

The big black-and-white cat lets out a soft hiss and stands up in the bed.

He twitches his bushy tail as his clear green eyes lock on the invisible shadow hidden inside the murky darkness. The house is quiet. The little boy sleeps on. The room turns cooler. The shadow simmers as if trying to creep closer. The cat bares his fangs and makes a low, silky growl. He can see through light and darkness. He doesn't like what he senses and feels. He's ready to stand his ground and chase the shadow away. He has magic of his own. He's a warrior. He's not afraid to use his claws. He will shred the faceless shadow into pieces. The shadow stirs and becomes denser. The cat tenses up and flattens his ears. The man sleeping on the king size bed in the master bedroom suddenly awakes. He ease out of bed without disturbing his sleeping wife and heads toward his son's room. He walks without a sound. He opens the door. He turns on the light. The shadow shatters. The cat meows.

Carlos Manoso kneels down by the bed, gently placing a large warm hand on his son's face. He's grateful his loved ones are all safe.

**~The End~**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * The seventh month in the lunar calendar is known as Ghost Month in Chinese culture.


End file.
